


Lovingly, Fuck You

by Gemi



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Church is a wizard who fell for a squib and a muggle, Church is also a big giant bi mess, F/M, M/M, cursing, so much cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemi/pseuds/Gemi
Summary: Were muggles even allowed to have muscles? That was not fucking cool, at all.





	1. Chapter 1

Church wouldn’t say he fell in love with Tex at first glance, because love is for losers and also why the fuck would he _glance_ at Tex? She took that shit as a challenge. He had stared like a man and gotten shit for it from his own magic until she found him amusing enough that she came over to tease him personally.

 

 _But_ they _kind of_ met in a vaguely romantic way and most definitely a _badass_ one. Classic shit. Good shit to tell their future grandkids, if they ever bothered getting that far.

 

 _Sarge_ was a whole other story.

 

Sarge gave Church a concussion with a tossed car part and questionable medical advice to make up for it.

 

“I need to meet him,” Tex told Church after he told her about it. She didn’t look pissed off or like she planned to kill the maniac who had hurt her boyfriend. No, she looked _amused_ and vaguely intrigued and basically, Church was offended.

 

“What the _fuck_ ,” he told her, because seriously? His goddamn head was bandaged because the one thing magic couldn’t fucking fix was _concussions_ . His words might have slurred a bit, his glare might not have been his best one. But still. The _fuck_?

 

“A muggle who lives in a magical community?” Tex replied with a raised brow and a stupidly sexy smirk, because she was a bitch and knew it, “A muggle who _knows_ he lives in a magical community? Of course I want to meet him.”

 

Which, well. _Point_. Church shuddered at the mere idea of living without magic (even if his was _stupid_ ), but Tex had to do it and she couldn’t fucking ignore magic, either, thanks to her job and also the fact she had two magical parents. Probably why she choose a job that involved stabbing wizards and getting cash for it.

 

“I’m not going back there,” he tells her, because he can’t stop her from going anyway.

 

She dragged him back there a week later. Because of fucking course she did.

 

 

Everything looked as it had when Church had been assaulted by the maniac. The tiny, shitty looking _cottage_ was bright red everywhere except for the roof and the windows. The fence was a mess of barbed wires and signs that told someone named Grif to stay away, and the garden itself was fifty percent junkyard and fifty percent an oddly organized mess that Church could _almost_ admire.

 

The asshole was by the junkyard part, and Church inched behind Tex as they got closer. Last time, he had just been walking past and _still_ gotten nailed in the head. Getting this close was a fucking death sentence, but at least Tex was too much of a bitch to let some weird asshole take her down, magic or not.

 

She huffed a laugh at Church, which what fucking ever. _He_ hadn’t wanted to show up. He was held hostage by his own girlfriend. Church had every right to hide behind her.

 

“Hello, neighbor,” she says, laughter still in her voice, but at least she wasn’t looking at Church anymore, so Church choose to ignore that for the moment.

 

The maniac peers up and squints at them. He looks like he is ten years older than them, grizzled and scarred all over with red-grey stubble. He is also unfairly muscular, and Church scowls at his stupid biceps, which are on display because the asshole is wearing a tank top.

 

Were muggles even _allowed_ to have muscles? That was not fucking cool, at all.

 

“What are you two doing here?” the maniac asked, because of course he would be rude as fuck, too. Their entire neighborhood attracted assholes the same way cowshit attracted flies. Or Tex attracted trouble. Both worked.

 

“Saying _hi_ , fuckface,” Church snapped.

 

The maniac’s squinting grew more intense.

 

“You’re that up to no good boy, aren’t you?” he asked, and Church bristled behind Tex. Tex, whom was of no help, only seeming to grow more amused by the second. Her stupid ponytail was bouncing in front of Church, a sure giveaway that Tex was on the verge of releasing her witch laugh.

 

“Me? You’re the one who threw a goddamn car-whatever at me! _You gave me a concussion!”_

 

“Hrmph,” the maniac huffed, grabbing a wrench, “Shouldn’t have gotten so close.”

 

“Whatever, let’s move on from my boyfriend being a whiny baby,” Tex interrupted, and Church would protest. Except Tex had reached behind her to snatch his hands up and squeeze them in hers. Which shouldn’t stop him from releasing his _pure rage_ at their maniac neighbor, but--

 

Church settled on grumbling. While still glaring past her arms, also illegally muscular.

 

“That twig is your boyfriend?” the maniac asked.

 

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Church hissed.

 

“Yeah,” Tex replied, squeezing Church’s hands again, “And he told me you’re a muggle. That true?”

 

“I ain’t no mugger! What in tarnation made you think-!”

 

“ _Muggler_. Non-magic. You _do_ know you live in a magical village, don’t you?” Tex cut him off before the idiot could truly work up a rant and yeah, maybe Church _would_ forgive her. Something told him this fucker could rant for fucking days given half a chance.

 

The fucker huffed and tossed the wrench up in the air. It caught the sunlight and glinted. A laser beam of sunshine shot straight into Church’s eyes, making him curse and duck fully behind Tex. He _knew_ he should have brought sunglasses!

 

“Yes,” the maniac said, “I might be one of those muggles, then.”

 

“How have you not been obliviated and moved back to a muggle city?” Tex asked then, and, fuck. Fuck, that was a good question, something _Church_ should have thought of. He peered back over Tex’s shoulder.

 

The maniac grinned. The asshole had _dimples_ , which Church decided wasn’t endearing at all. Nope. Even if they _were_ visible despite the thick stubble.

 

“My name is Sarge,” the man said and got up, tossing the wrench away, this time _not_ aiming at Church’s head, “You, missy, don’t look like those broom riding oddballs.”

 

“I’m a squib,” Tex replied, and from anyone else it would come out as shame. But not Tex, because Tex knew she could kick any ass, magical or not, “My twig is a wizard, but he doesn’t use brooms.”

 

“ _Hey!_ ” Church snapped. Sarge huffed in approval and got closer and goddamn, those stupid, stupid biceps.

 

“No clue why you’re a squid, but I’ll take it!”

 

“Stop fucking calling me a _twig_.”

 

“We’re just calling it as we see it, son,” Sarge replied and had the gall to _wink_ . Church snarled and opened his mouth to yell _something_.

 

He choked and spat out rose petals.

 

Tex grew still. Sarge blinked.

 

Church paled, even as more rose petals began to bounce out from his _hair_.

 

“No,” he said, and tried to cover his head with his own hands, “no, fuck that, _no_ . _Stop!”_

 

“Church,” Tex began, and oh fuck no. Fuck. No. As she turned around to stare at him, Church hurriedly moved so he remained behind her. His girlfriend released a annoyed huff.

 

“Say, them rose petals special?” Sarge asked.

 

“ _No_ ,” Church snarled. Sneezed, which just made _more_ of the fucking shit come out.

 

“Yes,” Tex said, and pointed at Sarge’s weird ass house, “Let’s talk in there, shall we? The twig’s magic likes to react to his emotions. Hope you don’t mind a mess.”

 

“Eh,” Sarge shrugged, leading the way past all the goddamn junk and shit, “They’re red, so I’ll accept it. If they turn blue, your twig better clean that shit up, though.”

 

“Blue? What is wrong with blue!?” Church demanded.

 

“It’s _blue_ , son. Ain’t nothing good ‘bout it!”

 

“Fuck you, _red_ sucks!”

 

“I’m sure we would all take you more seriously, if your magic wasn’t acting like a besotted five year old,” Tex cut in, showing what a traitor she was. Church glared at her; Sarge looked interested. “Besides,” Tex continued as they stepped into a cluttered hallway, “Black is the best color.”

  
Shit sucked, and Church did what he always did.

 

He blamed his magic.

 

That bullshit had gotten him into trouble since he was _born_ . It refused to be controlled, it always betrayed him by being loud and exciting and _stupid_ , to the point that he could probably _never_ walk in the muggle part of _anywhere_ . It had made him trip into things; it had made jerks trip into things, too. It had burnt the food, thrown rose petals at Tex, ripped off Tex’s shirts more than once and dyed his hair several times. There was a reason Church prefered to wear something on his head at all times, his hoodie being the current item to help him cover his hair up _just in case_.

 

They had told Church he would be able to control it when he was older. He was in his mid-twenties now and it _still_ acted like it had any right to be sentient and out of control. And this time it really didn’t make any sense, because how and the fuck _why_ would he have a crush on Sarge? They just met the fucking idiot, _and_ he gave him a concussion.

 

That was what Church told himself. But, somehow, he walked out of that 100% red painted house with a blush to match and a _muggle number_ _on a piece of paper_ clutched in his hands.

 

Tex laughed the whole way home.

  
_Bitch_.


	2. Chapter 2

Sarge is in the goddamn kitchen  _ again _ , doing shit he isn’t supposed to  _ again _ . There’s bright red ooze that looks like someone spilled mashed cherries all over their table, there’s smoke that  _ glitters _ drifting upwards and Church grits his teeth and throws an apple at Sarge’s head. It doesn’t connect, because Sarge has freaky reflexes at the worst of times and catches the thing, which just makes it more tempting to throw the entire grocery bag at him instead. 

 

He wants to throw one at Tex too, but he knows he wouldn’t survive that. So instead he sends her the best glare he can muster up but Tex is, as always, a  _ bitch _ and ignores it in favor of dragging one finger through the red ooze.

 

She puts the finger in her mouth. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ !?” Church yells.

 

“Relax,” Sarge huffs and takes a big bite out of the apple, as if to further mock Church’s aiming skills, “it’s harmless! Apple flavored  _ glue _ !” 

 

“Why the fuck would you make glue that taste like apples? In  _ that _ color? And it’s glue! How the fuck did you make glue? What the  _ fuck _ -”

 

“Shut it, Church,” Tex says and walks closer and Church shies away when she comes close with an ooze covered finger, wiggling it threateningly at his mouth. “C’mon, it won’t  _ hurt ya _ .”

 

“Fuck both of you,” he hisses and tries to hide behind the fridge door, hurriedly putting the carton of milk into it and leaning further and further away from Tex as he does, “I’m not touching any of that shit and I’m definitely  _ not _ eating it! You’re both sleeping on the goddamn couch if you- I MEAN IT TEX!”

 

“Baby blue is a big baby today,” Sarge comments, and Church sends him a suspicious glare for that- Sarge’s eyes are twinkling and that’s never good and he isn’t a goddamn  _ baby _ \- but then Sarge slides up and puts his hand on Church’s lower back. Leans in and kisses Church’s neck, and fuck him. Fuck both of them, they can both fuck off. 

 

Church doesn’t lean away though. He leans into it, instead, because he’s an idiot apparently. He grumbles and continues to put the groceries into the fridge, because at least Tex is for once actually  _ listening _ and not coming closer with that freaky apple glue or whatever the fuck it is. 

 

“I’m not a goddamn baby,” he says out loud, because he isn’t and they should know that. It doesn’t come out as angry as he wants it though, because Sarge is still pressed close and kissing his neck and one hand is sliding up and under Church’s shirt and  _ goddamnit. _

 

“You’re very much a baby,” Tex wryly replies, sliding up too now, but her hands are clean so Church doesn’t protest when she cups his face to kiss him on the lips, before moving on to kissing Sarge instead. He is tempted to turn around so he can watch properly, but he needs to put the milk into the fridge because it’s summer and too fucking hot to be legal. 

 

“I’m  _ not _ ,” he hisses instead and shoves the milk into the fridge, and he curses at how it’s been filled up with potion vials  _ again _ and- “Why the fuck is there a  _ knife _ in here?” he says (shrieks, the others insist, but they’re deaf and stupid and he doesn’t  _ shriek _ ) and Church pulls it out and waves it in the air until Tex snatches it back. 

 

“Oops,” she says and moves away, hopefully to clean the thing off of all the dried blood it had on it. 

 

“Oops,” Church mimics, slamming the fridge closed to turn around. He hates that they’re taller than him, especially now when Sarge is pressing him into the fridge, all bulky and big and his stupid, brown eyes still  _ twinkling _ , “Oops, you just happened to leave a  _ dirty _ knife in our goddamn fridge? Fuck you. And wipe that look off your face,” he snaps at Sarge.

 

Sarge grins. It’s all full of teeth and not at all charming. Church scowls up at him. 

 

“Our fridge needs more red,” Sarge tells him, way too close, and Church isn’t at all leaning in, nope. “Too much blue in this house.”

 

“Too much  _ blue _ ? Blue is the best color, not my fault you’re blind,” Church snaps back and reaches up to drag his hands against Sarge’s buzzcut- it’s just fuzzy and soft enough to be fun to touch, a month since he last time shaved it down -before he rests his hands against the back of Sarge’s head.

 

“Black is the best color,” Tex says, and god, why the fuck is he with two idiots. This is why his family disowned him. He throws her a glare, but she just sends him a shark like grin in response. The one she uses in the bedroom, the one she  _ knows _ makes him hot and flustered. Even now he feels his cheeks heat up even though he’s still glaring daggers at her.

 

“Red,” Sarge insists, and  _ pinches _ Church’s cheek, a perfect excuse for Church to glare at  _ him _ now even as his cheeks burn even more with that, “Look at this. Red makes  _ everything _ better and that’s just facts! Surrender, blue boy, you can’t deny  _ facts _ , can you? Big ol’ nerd,” he mutters and moves his hands to Church’s ass. 

 

“Yeah well this  _ nerd _ knows that science proved blue is the better color, so both of you can fuck off!” 

 

“Hmmm, no, Sarge is right,” Tex says, her voice sly and too close, “Red suits you.” 

 

She nips at his ear and Church bites his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where to glare now, so he scowls up at the ceiling instead.

  
There’s red splatter all over the ceiling.

 

“Sarge, how did you get your weird-ass glue up  _ there _ !?”

 

“Field test,” Tex replies in Sarge’s place, probably because Sarge is busy giving Church’s neck a hickey. Church can’t really bother to give a damn about it, instead tilting his head to the side to allow better access, which just means Tex kisses the corner of Church’s lips as Sarge squeezes his ass, “It’s pretty good glue, actually. Might use it for my job,” Tex adds.

 

“It’s bright red,” Church points out. It comes out in a gasp. Tex just grins that grin of hers and kisses him again, and Church is pretty sure she’s touching Sarge too, now, by the approving sounds Sarge is making against Church’s neck. 

 

There is the loud sound of fabric being ripped in two, and Church’s entire face burns hot as his stupid fucking magic tears Sarge’s bright red shirt off of him. He isn’t even wearing his  _ wand _ , why the fuck does it always do this shit, it’s just embarrassing. Fuck, even a five year old got better control over this shit.

 

“Eager, are you?” Sarge teases, his accent deeper and yeah, okay, never mind. Church is fine with his magic being an asshole if it means he can slide his hands down Sarge’s chest, let his eyes travel over the signs that Tex and Sarge _ clearly _ had fun before Church got home. 

 

“Fuck you,” Church replies.

 

“Oh, we plan to fuck  _ you _ ,” Tex purrs into his ear and Church  _ moans _ . 

  
  


And they did. Church still got plans to kick them out of bed for the mess they made in the kitchen, but not yet. He’s tired and warm and they’re both laying on him, anyway. It’s not like he can  _ move _ or anything. How many rounds did they go? Is it some weird non-magical thing that muggles and squibs share, having freaky stamina and a weird kink all about how many times they can make wizards cum? Like what the fuck. He should expect it because it always happens, and  _ yet _ … 

 

There’s red glue on their bedroom ceiling, he realizes, and then Church groans and hides his face against Tex’s shoulder instead and pulls Sarge’s arm closer to his chest. Best to just go the fuck back to sleep instead and let them fix their own mess in the morning.

 

He will kick them out of the bed  _ tomorrow _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they lived happily after, ignoring Church's potty mouth as they ran around making wizards feel inadequate.

**Author's Note:**

> A squib, a muggle and a pureblood walked into a bar.... 
> 
> Anyway, I got weirdly involved with this ship I decided on for rarepair week. Oops.


End file.
